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Patricia was crying. Wallace Price hated it when people cried. Little tears, big tears, full-on body-wracking sobs, it didn’t matter. Tears were pointless, and she was only delaying the inevitable.
There was no need for flowers. What was the point? They were pretty at first but then they died, leaves and petals curling and rotting, making a mess that could have been avoided had they not been sent in the first place.
“If wishes were fishes, we’d all swim in riches.”
He glared at her. “I’m not a child.” “Oh, I know. It’s easier with kids, if you can believe that. The adults are the ones that’re usually the problem.”
“Tea shop,” Wallace repeated, eyeing the sign with disdain. Mei paused. “Wow. You’ve got something against tea, man? That’s not gonna go over well.”
The first time you share tea, you are a stranger. The second time you share tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share tea, you become family.
“It helps to laugh, even when you don’t feel like laughing. You can’t be sad when you’re laughing. Mostly.”
Wallace had never been a fan of tea. If pressed, he would say he never really saw what the fuss was about. It was dry leaves in hot water.
This is what the tea tasted like. Memory. Home. Youth. Betrayal. Bittersweet and warm.
behind. I can’t grieve for myself.” Hugo shook his head slowly. “Of course you can. We do it all the time, regardless of if we’re alive or not, over the small things and the big things. Everyone is a little bit sad all the time.
“Oooooh!” he moaned as loudly as he could. “Ooooooooh!” He paced up and down the hall of the bottom floor, a little perturbed that he couldn’t seem to stomp his feet no matter how hard he tried. He banged his hands on the walls, but he kept almost falling through. Which is why he found himself bellowing out every ghost noise he’d ever heard in horror movies. He was disappointed he had no chains to clank. “I’m deaaaad. Deaaaaaaaad! Woe is meeee.” “Would you shut up!” Mei shouted from her room. “Make me!” he bellowed back, and then redoubled his efforts.
Wallace gives me Otto vibes from A man called Ove, but the fantasy-ghost version of the grumpy old man
Nelson sighed. “That’s a strange way to look at things. I’m not helping you because I expect you to give me anything. Honestly, Wallace. When was the last time you ever did anything without expecting something in return?”
It’s not always about what we can or can’t have, but the work we put into it.”
“I like the dead more than the living. Dead people usually don’t care about the little annoyances of life.”
If she was telling the truth and was human, she’d always have to be scared of something. That was how humanity worked. Survival instinct was based on a healthy dose of fear.
Death isn’t a final ending, Wallace. It is an ending, sure, but only to prepare you for a new beginning.”
“Always said that having a good fire and good company is all a person needs.”
“All right?” Hugo asked as Wallace stopped awkwardly next to Nelson’s chair. “I have no idea,” Wallace said. Hugo beamed at him as if Wallace had said something profound. “That’s wonderful.” Wallace blinked. “It is?” “Very. Not knowing is better than pretending to know.”
“It was enlightening to see that you were a proponent of manscaping when you were alive. I’d hate to think you’d neglect it only to spend your time here with a topiary garden in your pants.”
For the first time since he’d stood above himself in his office, his breath forever gone, Wallace felt relief, wild and vast. It was a start. And it terrified the hell out of him.
What does it say about killing someone who deserves it?” “It’s illegal,” Wallace said. “But not, like, completely illegal, right? Justifiable homicide is a thing. I think.” “I mean, there’s always a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity, but that’s difficult to pull off—”
“Right,” Nelson said. “Because most people put their boobs up on the counter like she does. Perfectly natural.”
“Oh my god,” Wallace said. “How is she a person
“I told a woman I was Satan and was going to cannibalize her diver.” He grimaced. “That’s not something I ever thought I’d say out loud.”
“You’re not alive, Wallace. But you still exist. I don’t think you realized that until today.”
“What makes a good person?” Hugo asked. “Actions? Motivations? Selflessness?”
It’s hard to accept a new reality when the only life you’ve known is gone forever.
You weren’t angry. You were scared and acting angry. There’s a difference.”
Children aren’t always as scared as adults are. Not of death.”
“Children are different. Their connections to life are stronger. They love with their whole hearts because they don’t know how else to be.
That’s not our job. We’re here to make sure they see that life isn’t always about living. There are many parts to it, and it continues on, even after death. It’s beautiful, even when it hurts.
“I’m too old and too dead for this.”
Wallace whispered, “It’s easy to let yourself spiral and fall.” “It is,” Nelson agreed. “But it’s what you do to pull yourself out of it that matters most.”
“Because it’s always there. No matter what you do, no matter what kind of life you live, good or bad or somewhere in between, it’s always going to be waiting for you. From the moment you’re born, you’re dying.”
Wallace stared after him, burning like the sun.
They sipped their tea and just … existed near each other.
“I could never be you.” “Of course not,” Hugo said. “Because you’re you, and that’s who you’re supposed to be.”
Honesty was a weapon. It could be used to stab and tear and spill blood upon the earth.
There is no God, at least not like you’re thinking. He’s a human construct, one capable of great peace and violent wrath. It’s a dichotomy only found in the human mind, so of course he’d be made in your image. But I’m afraid he’s nothing but a fairy tale in a book of fiction.
“It’s never enough, is it? Time. We always think we have so much of it, but when it really counts, we don’t have enough at all.”
Wallace was devastated. If they were anyone else, this could be the start of something. A beginning rather than an end. But they weren’t anyone else. They were Wallace and Hugo, dead and alive. A great chasm stretched between them.
